


Anniversaries

by InTheCompanyOfDragons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Chick-Flick Moments, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheCompanyOfDragons/pseuds/InTheCompanyOfDragons
Summary: November 2nd. This date has haunted the Winchesters all their lives. Every year is hard... and every year is a little bit different.
Relationships: Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Anniversaries

This day used to be a day that Dean could keep himself distracted from his own grief. John got a little too drunk and his eyes got red and puffy. Dean would take Sammy to the park to play all day, carry the younger boy back to their current motel room and put him to bed. Then he would throw a scratchy blanket over his Dad, pour the remaining whiskey down the drain before laying down himself, finally allowing the tears to fall from his eyes in his own form of silent grief. Dean would be dry eyed by morning, ready to go on for his family. As Sam got older, the anniversary got harder. 

November 2nd 1996

Sam’s hormones came in with a bang when he turned thirteen and he was pulling away from Dean and John as hard as he could. So when November 2nd rolled around again Dean didn’t really see anything wrong when Sam secluded himself in the bedroom in the run down apartment they were currently calling home in a no name town in Michigan. Dean on the other hand, was struggling worse than ever with the anniversary. His Dad was on a hunt… as he had been for the last two years when the date had rolled around. Dean knew that his father would stumble back in by Monday, looking a little bit worse for wear and then they would head out of town ignoring the elephant in the room. However, it was the first year that Dean didn’t have Sam to distract him. Usually they would keep themselves busy, but if Sam didn’t want to be around Dean, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing and stew in his grief. Dean put on his leather jacket, and put his wallet in his back pocket knocking on the door of the bedroom. 

“I’m going out for awhile; I’ll be back later.” Dean said to the closed door.

He waited for an answer and only heard some soft shuffling on the other side of the door. 

“Sammy, an answer would be nice!” Dean yelled slamming on the door. 

“Okay Dean.” A soft voice said from the other side of the door. 

Dean rolled his eyes and left the apartment with a loud slam. 

Sam sat on the floor with his back against the door, silent tears rolling down his cheeks holding an old rumpled photo of Mary Winchester holding him as a baby. He hated everything about his life. He hated the moving, the hunting, the constant disconnection. Most of all, for the first time, Sam really missed his Mom. Sure, he always missed her presence, knew he was supposed to have a Mom, but for the first time there was this aching need for her to be here, to save him from this crazy life. For the first time Sam cried for what could have been, for what was stolen from him. 

Dean walked from the apartment and went into the first bar he saw. If he couldn’t help his family, he was going to grieve the John Winchester way. Too many shots later, Dean left the bar and picked up a bottle of whiskey from a 24 hour liquor store. He wandered back to the apartment crashing through the door placing the unopened bottle onto the rickety table in front of the kitchenette. He went to grab a glass and paused noticing the light in the bedroom was still on. He looked at the clock and it flashed 2:47 AM in that awful green light. Too late for Sam to still be awake, nerdy kid didn’t know what staying up late was. Dean paused at the door, but instead of knocking he went inside, it was his room too anyway.

Sam looked so small curled up on the twin bed farthest from the door. Dean walked over to pull the faded blue blanket over his brother and paused as he saw the corner of a picture poking out from under Sam’s pillow. He pulled it out and stared at his Mother’s face in the picture, he remember this day so clearly. Dean was playing on the swings while his Dad took pictures of baby Sam’s first day at the park. 

“Dean?” A small voice said.

Dean turned around and took in his brother’s tired eyes and smiled. 

“Hey Sammy.”

Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking down at the picture in Dean’s hands. 

“I’m sorry that I took that, I won’t do it again.” Sam said sadly.

Dean looked Sam with a small smile and handed him back the picture. 

“You keep it, that way you have something to remember her by.” 

Sam looked up with watery eyes, and then threw himself at Dean. Dean caught his brother on instinct, shocked by the hug. Sam hadn’t hugged him in a long time. Sam sniffed into the collar of Dean’s jacket. 

“I’m sorry you lost her Dean.” Sam whispered.

Dean closed his eyes tight and gave his brother one last squeeze before letting him go. 

“I’m sorry you lost her too Sammy.” Dean said.

Sam gave Dean a tight frown and shook his head.

“I never had her Dean… I wish she was here… but you knew her… you lost her… I don’t even know what her voice sounded like.”

Dean sighed and back up leaning against the wall behind Sam’s bed. He knew Sam wished he had a Mom, but all he had to remember her was a picture. He looked at his brother and pulled him against his side.

“This why you’ve been so quiet today?” Dean asked. 

Sam shrugged.

“I just think I finally realize what I’m missing, what you and Dad miss so much.” 

Dean nodded and looked at the top of his brother’s shaggy head. Sam couldn’t be distracted by playgrounds and his brother anymore, Dean couldn’t hide his grief anymore, so Dean decided to try something else. 

“Hey Sammy, did you know that Mom loved thunderstorms?” Dean said.

Sam looked up Dean with wide eyes. Dean never talked about their mother. 

“She uh… every time there was a big rain, she would take me outside blast music and make us dance in it. We wouldn’t go in until we were soaking wet and tired. She would make us hot chocolate and we would eat peanut butter cookies….” 

Dean rambled on until the sun came up, anything he could remember. At thirteen Sam was beginning to understand the full power of grief and loss. Dean couldn’t do anything to bring his Mom back, but he could certainly give Sam a few of his memories to hold on to. 

When John returned in the afternoon, both his boys would be asleep, Dean sitting against the wall, Sam curled up in a ball beside him still clutching a picture of his mother, and unopened bottle of whiskey sitting on the kitchen table.


	2. Chapter 2

November 2nd 2000

Dean listened to the shower running and looked down at the manilla envelope in his hands. The Stanford emblem across the front of it bright like fire in Dean’s eyes. He was just looking for the sharpening stone so he could sharpen the knives, he wasn’t going through Sam’s stuff, now he wished he had left well enough alone. He heard the shower stop and quickly stuffed the letter back into the bottom of Sam’s bag and zipped it back up making his way back over to his own bed. Sam stepped out of the bathroom and reached into his bag to get a sweatshirt and paused for a second with a frown on his face before going back to what he was doing. 

“Did Dad call?” Sam asked pulling the hoodie over his head.

“Said he was heading to Caleb’s place to crash, should be soon.” Dean answered, cleaning off his gun. 

“Shouldn’t you have gone with him if he needed back up?” Sam questioned.

“Nah, my ribs are still healing up from the last hunt… and you know someone had to stay back to take you to school and make sure you took your naps.” Dean replied. 

Sam scowled and threw a pillow Dean’s direction. 

“Jerk.” 

“Bitch.” Dean said with a smirk. 

The two brothers sat in silence for awhile watching an old western on the fuzzy television before Sam cleared his throat.

“You think he will be okay?” Sam said hesitantly.

Dean looked up at Sam strangely, Sam had never asked that before preferring to stay quiet about the reason John had chosen to stay away on this day nearly a decade. 

“He’ll be fine Sammy, Caleb’s got his back.” Dean answered. 

Dean stood up and pulled a bottle of whiskey from his bag, and took two paper cups from beside the coffee maker. Throwing some pillows down on the floor between the two beds he sat down in the space and poured whiskey into the cups offering one to Sam. Sam looked perplexed and Dean just rolled his eyes. 

“I’m the one who picked you up from that homecoming party last year after you threw up in the bushes, don’t act like you have never had a drink before.” 

Sam laughed and slid down onto the floor taking the cup from his brother and took a gulp from his cup wincing a little at the burn. Dean laughed at his little brother’s antics watching as Sam loosened up with each sip.

When half the bottle was gone Sam let out a loud sigh and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, the paper cup dangling between his hands. 

“We gonna talk about it De?” Sam asked quietly. 

Dean peered at his brother with questioning eyes. 

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” Dean answered. 

“I know you saw it, don’t know what you were looking for but you were obviously in my bag… so now seems as good a time as ever for you to ask.” 

Dean closed his eyes and sighed deeply, today had always been a day of mourning and grief, of course the world would pile on today.

“You get early acceptance geek boy?” 

“Yeah as long as I keep up my grades.”

“So you were just gonna leave? Were you even gonna tell us or were you gonna just disappear, leave me thinking something got you?” Dean grumbled.

Sam looked at his brother and shook his head wildly.

“Dean no… I wouldn’t do that… I just hadn’t figured out a way to tell you yet… I was going to tell you I swear. Dean, you are my brother, you will always be my brother but I just don’t think I can do this anymore. I want something else.” 

“Yeah? And what about Mom? You just going to forget why we do this in the first place?” Dean snarled.

Sam blinked at Dean wildly before staggering over to his bag, pulling out a worn picture. He crashed back down between the beds and handed the picture of Mary and Sam to Dean. 

“This is it Dean, a picture. I hold on to every story you have ever told me about her, try and put myself into those stories but I don’t fit, cause I wasn’t there. I do not know who Mom was, but I look into her eyes in this picture, and I just know. I do not want this life, and she wouldn’t want this life for us either.” 

Dean looked into his mother’s eyes, trying to see what Sam saw, but all Dean could see was fire. He didn’t want to lose his brother, but he wanted better for Sam then this motel room. 

“I hope you find what you are looking for Sammy.” Dean said honestly. 

Sam swallowed deeply and took another drink.

“I hope you do too big brother.” 

Sam wasn’t leaving for another 10 months, but this felt like a goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

November 2nd 2005

Everything smelled like smoke. Dean dropped his duffel on the bed closest to the door and watched as his little brother slid down in front of the door of the motel room, a blank stare on his face. Dean knelt down in front of the younger man trying to find his eyes beneath his bangs. 

“Sammy, you should go take a shower and change your clothes, you are covered in soot…” 

Sam took in a large gulp of air and looked up at Dean.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“I’m sure I have something sasquatch sized for you to borrow til the morning, we will get you some new stuff. Just go and get cleaned up.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t move off the floor. Dean stood up and opened his bag picking out an old hoodie and some track pants that would be too short on Sam but would fit him in the waist so they would have to do. He added boxers and socks to the pile and then hauled Sam up by the arm.

“Sammy, go get cleaned up I’m gonna go do some laundry so we have clean clothes for tomorrow, I’ll be back in an hour. I’ll just be next door at the laundry mat, call me if you need me.” 

As much as Dean didn’t want to leave his brother, he was aware that Sam probably needed some time by himself. Sam hadn’t shed a tear yet; he knew Sam wouldn’t until he was alone. He waited until he heard the water running, ducking into the bathroom to grab Sam’s clothes and spent the next hour doing laundry. He paused outside the room afraid to walk into his brothers’ pain. He gathered himself before entering. 

When he opened the door, the TV was quietly playing some late-night infomercial and Sam was curled up under the blanket his eyes opened at Dean’s entrance but he said nothing. Dean said nothing, simply dropped his bag of laundry on the ground and sat down on his own bed facing his brother. He grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey, Sam had obviously helped himself to Dean’s stash, and took a deep swallow from the bottle. Sam watched him, and Dean watched Sam, noticing the bright red eyes and blotchy cheeks staring back at him, and he passed the bottle back in Sam’s direction and waited a few seconds for Sam to take it. The younger Winchester pulled himself up from under the cover and grabbed the bottle take a long sip with a wince. 

“Do you think it’s me?” Sam asked suddenly. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Do I cause this? Why does this keep happening in my room?” 

Dean frowned and took the bottle from Sam’s hands.

“No more of this stuff for you, go to bed Sam.” 

“I’m being serious Dean.” 

“I know you are; I’m just don’t want to answer stupid drunk questions. None of this, not Mom or Jessica is your fault.”

Sam looked up at him with those same sad eyes that had been breaking Dean’s heart his entire life and watched helplessly as tears began to fall. Dean moved over to Sam’s bed and pulled him into a hard hug. Sam began to sob desperately, the walls finally breaking down.

“Why is she gone Dean?” 

Dean swallowed hard and just held onto his brother.

“I don’t know Sammy; bad things happen to good people. I swear to God, we are gonna find whatever did this, but for now you need to sleep. Please Sammy just get some sleep.”   
Dean sat there cradling his 22-year-old brother, just as he did 22 years before until Sam finally fell asleep. Dean then wiggled his way out from under him and sat down on his own bed watching Sam sleep. Sam’s eyes were scrunched up in discomfort in his sleep, and Dean sat silent tears running down his own face as the pain of November 2nd came back in full force, finally scarring his younger brother in a way he could remember.


	4. Chapter 4

November 2nd 2011

Dean walked out of the bedroom and into the main room of the cabin. Bobby was sitting at the rickety table nursing a glass of whiskey, pouring over any research he could find on Leviathans. Dean poured some whiskey into the glass and looked around the small room with a frown. 

"Hey Bobby, where's Sammy?" Dean asked. 

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and put down the book he was reading. He rubbed his sore neck and looked up at Dean. 

"Dunno. Kid went out back, said he needed some time alone. I didn't push him." Bobby answered. 

"You do remember that Sam is never alone now right? You just let him go outside to have a conversation with Satan?" Dean growled. 

Bobby quirked his eyebrow at Dean and stood up to look him in the eye. 

"Dean… I know you have had a lot on your plate lately. With Sam chasing the white rabbits and God's killer pets running around, but don't tell me you have forgotten what day it is."

Dean frowned and pulled out his phone. He stared at the date for a moment before he choked out a laugh. He rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. 

"I haven't forgotten this day in thirty years. I guess I just had bigger things on my mind. I uh… I gotta go find Sam. I'm not sure it’s a good idea for him to be out there by himself. This has been a tough day for him since Jess… sure it won't be any better adding the devil to the mix." 

Bobby nodded. 

"Well I'm gonna keep looking for Purgatories most wanted. I'll uh… be here if you need anything." Bobby said. 

Dean nodded and went out the back door of the cabin saving himself and Bobby from the heart to heart. He couldn't see Sam from the back porch so he just wandered in the general direction he thought he could find his brother. Following his gut hadn't failed him yet. It was when he let anger get in the way and he forgot to follow it that things went wrong for him and his brother. 

He found Sam propped up against a tree, a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting beside him. Sam was staring up at the starry sky pressing hard on the cut on his hand. Dean saw the darkness of blood was once again beginning to spread along the gauze. Dean sat down beside Sam, startling the younger Winchester from his thoughts. 

"You keep digging at that thing it gonna get infected… last thing you need is a fever." Dean said. 

Sam sighed and leaned back against the tree with his eyes closed. 

"Mhmmm… wouldn't want that…. Don't wanna burrrrnnnn up." Sam whispered. 

Dean frowned and looked at Sam trying to take stalk of where his head was at. 

"Look Sammy… I uh lost track of time with everything that was going on… I'm sorry I wasn't more prepared for today." 

Sam laughed and looked over at Dean. 

"I couldn't be more happy to hear that you didn't notice… s'why I left for awhile." 

Sam's eyes glazed over and stared off into space. He pressed down on that hand again and Dean reached out to stop him. 

"Damnit Sam stop that. Just focus on me and ignore him. Now we know that Lucifer and whiskey do not mix." Dean yelled. 

Sam eyes shifted back into focus and he looked at Dean. 

"This is probably the worst November 2nd since Jessica died and Lucifer is not the problem Dean…" Sam said. 

"Alright…. So what makes this year so bad?" Dean questioned.

"Dean, you don't have to do that. Don't take this on for me." 

"Alright look Sam. I'm not big on talking about feelings, but this has always been a day the two of us could talk. Maybe not try to drown in pain by ourselves. C'mon, free pass night. Tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours." 

Sam sighed and shifted so he could face Dean right on. 

"Well… it is the thing we never talk about. Or at least part of it is…" Sam said. He looked up at Dean to judge how he would handle this, but Dean stayed stone faced. 

"Okay. So you wanna talk about Hell?" Dean asked. 

He could take anything in stride if it meant helping his brother. 

"Well, no. But I can't tell you anything without starting there. So just let me? And when I'm done ask any questions you want."

Dean picked up the bottle of whiskey and took a swig. 

"Okay go ahead." 

Sam took a deep breath and looked back at the sky. 

"For the first year Lucifer just locked me down in the dark. He went off to lick his wounds I guess. When he finally came back I thought I was prepared for what he was going to do to me. I wasn't. He tried to break me and when he couldn't he moved on to other things. Lucifer couldn't torture me with anything he knew in Hell… but he could use everything he had learned from when he was possessing me…every memory and ever terrible thing I had ever done. He used something that made me break once before. When I was detoxing off the demon blood." 

Sam stopped talking for a few minutes so Dean took that as his que. 

"What did he have on you Sammy?" 

"He had Mom, Jessica, Dad… you…" 

Dean wasn't sure he understood but then flashes of Sam and his Dad flashed before his eyes. Memories of his own time down under.

"He wore our faces. He used us to torture you." Dean whispered in horror. 

"Yeah… and you know that Lucifer isn't really here. It is just my brain leaking memories from the cage. He still loves to use that same torture." 

Sam pressed down hard on his sliced palm and looked off just passed Dean's shoulder. And Dean felt the pieces began to click together in his brain. 

"November 2nd… Lucifer isn't your white rabbit today is he Sammy? It's Jessica isn't it?" 

"Mom is here too, they are both so angry with me. I ruined their lives." 

A stray tear ran down Sam's face and he hit his hand hard against the ground. Dean grabbed it and pulled it hard against his chest. Sam tumbled into Dean as well but Dean didn't care. 

"If you know that Lucifer isn't real, then you know that Mom and Jessica aren't either. If I have to tell you this every year for the rest of your life I will. What happened to them is not your fault. If those hallucinations you are seeing were really them, they would tell you the same thing. You saved the world kid, let go of some of that guilt. 

Sam sighed and looked around.

"They're gone Dean." 

"Good, now lets get inside and get that hand cleaned up." 

Dean led Sam back to the cabin and sat him down across from Bobby before running into the bathroom to grab the med kit. He pulled Sam's hand into his lap and began to stitch. 

"Rough night boys?" Bobby asked. 

Dean scoffed. 

"Rough life." Dean replied. 

"Hey Dean?" Sam said. 

"Yeah little brother?" 

Sam gave him a wild smile. 

"It is 12:01. November 3rd. I think I wanna sleep now." 

Dean laughed in spite of himself. 

"You have lost your God Damn mind Sammy." 

Sam yawned. 

"Maybe I have." 

"Go lay down Sam, get some rest." 

Sam wandered over to the couch and stretched out falling asleep almost instantly.

"You planning on filling me in kid?" Bobby asked.

Dean sighed. 

"Yeah… but first I need a drink."


	5. November 2nd 2019

November 2nd 2019  
John Winchester's sudden appearance and disappearance had rattled them all. Since the pearl had been broken Mary had chosen to remain close to her sons over the next several weeks. Dean had seemed to have settled into a strange sort of peace as the days had gone on, simply appreciating the few hours the four of them had gotten to spend together.   
Sam on the other hand, seemed to be getting worse with each passing day, and today Sam had been mostly absent from the central hub of the bunker choosing to stay in his room. Dean had gone to see Sam more then once. He had brought him food and whiskey and Tylenol. Mary was beginning to feel like she was out of the loop on something major. 

"Hey Dean is something going on?" Mary asked as Dean walked back into the kitchen. 

"No, Sam just isn't feeling the greatest." Dean answered. 

"I'm going to go see him." 

As Mary stood and began to walk out of the kitchen she felt a soft grip around her arm. 

"Mom, that isn't a good idea. Please just leave him alone." 

Mary deflated and turned back towards Dean.

"He is avoiding me isn't he? Because of what day it is? He's angry." 

Dean looked at his mother for a moment and let out a deep sigh. He took a seat at the table and kicked out the chair across from him. 

"Mom sit down." 

Mary sat down in the seat and looked up at her oldest son. 

"How do I fix this?" Mary asked. 

"Listen to me. How Sam is feeling today has nothing to with you I swear. He finds this day a little harder… with you back but that isn't your fault. It isn't because he is mad at you. It's the complete opposite." 

"Can you elaborate on that please?" 

Dean sighed again and leaned his elbows up on the table.

"Sam gets like this every year. I guess I used to too. Mourning is a hard thing. We mourned for you growing up… and now Sam mourns for Jessica the way Dad mourned for you." 

Mary frowned and turned that over in her head before realization hit her. 

"Jessica? That was the girl that he loved? The one yellow eyes killed." 

"Yeah. On November 2nd 2005. 22 years after you." 

Mary wiped a tear a way from her eye. 

"Same day as me…" 

"Mom, Sam is happy he doesn't have to grieve for you anymore. But he lost a lot more then just you on November 2nd."

The two Winchester's sat in silence for awhile before Mary stood from the table.

"I'm going to go to bed, just… let Sam know that if he needs anything I'm here." Mary said. 

When Mary was gone, Dean made his way back to Sam's room, knocking softly on the door. He knew he wouldn't get an answer but he just wanted to give Sam the heads up he was there. 

He entered the room, tripping over something on the floor that he couldn’t see because it was dark in the room. He made is way to the far side of the bed where Sam was sitting on the floor with his back against the mattress. 

"Mom's worried about you." Dean whispered. 

He sat down beside Sam wincing as his knees crackled and popper. 

Sam sighed and looked towards the back wall. 

"I don't know how to face her. I can’t pretend everything is okay today. I know this day is easier for you now, but I just can’t get passed it." 

Dean shrugged and stared at the side of Sam's head. 

"It may be different now that Mom is back but this day still hurts. I still hate what this day has done to you. Empathy is a bitch."

Sam laughed wetly. 

"It's been 14 years Dean. A lifetime really, and this day comes around and I just can't get passed it."

"You don't have to. You just get through it. It'll be tomorrow before you know it." 

Dean had learned long ago that trying to get Sam out of his depression was useless. Once a year Sam was allowed to wallow without any judgement. 

"I'm here if you want anything." Dean said. 

"I know you are. Do you think Mom is still awake?" Sam asked. 

"Of course she is. Probably pacing trying to figure out what to do to help."

Sam nodded and stood up, reaching down to help Dean from the ground. 

"I'm gonna go see her." 

"Want me to come with you?" Dean asked. 

"Yeah…" 

Sam would always be grateful for Dean's steady unjudgmental support on this day. 

Sam knocked quietly on Mary's door. His mother opened it with a squeak. 

"Mom…" Sam faltered. 

"Oh Sam." 

Mary wrapped her arms around Sam's back and pulled him in for a tight squeeze. Dean stood back and watched with affection. When she pulled back she looked at her youngest with tear filled eyes.

"I am so sorry…" Mary said. 

Sam shook his head. 

"Mom there is nothing about how I am feeling that is your fault. This day makes me sad but I always bounce back. Plus, this year I've got you. That already makes it better." Sam said. 

"I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I could have taken away John's pain."

Dean came over and placed his arm around his mother.

"Dad was in pain until the day he died about what happened to you. I was in pain until the day you got back. You know what that taught me? Pain is the ultimate showing of love. You can't take that away." Dean said. 

"And I don't want to. I'm okay with the pain because I got to love an amazing girl, and Dad would tell you the same thing." Sam whispered.

"You boys are too wise for your age." Mary said. 

Sam's watch beeped wildly and he looked down to turn it off. 

"12:01 Sammy. Go to bed. See you in the morning." Dean said. 

"Yeah okay. Hey, tomorrow? Breakfast the three of us. November 3rd can be a good day." 

Mary smiled. 

"Bacon and eggs with my boys? I can't say no to that."


End file.
